


Shook Me All Night Long

by njgirl0976



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Brothers, F/M, Family Drama, Flirting, Oral Sex, Sex, Supernatural Elements, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-24 15:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1610807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njgirl0976/pseuds/njgirl0976
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam has a one night stand with a female hunter that he didn't think he'd ever see again. So, what happens? Of course, she shows up in the next town Sam and Dean are in, working the same case. She's beautiful, fierce, and a little more woman than Sam is used to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I've ever shared. I usually keep my stuff to myself. Also, this is my very, very, very first attempt at fan fiction! Be nice. I have a tender ego. ;)

Sam dragged a hand through his long, brown hair before he even opened his eyes. He knew the sunlight that streamed down on his face was going to pierce his brain like a thousand knives and he wasn’t looking forward to it. Last night’s drinking binge at the local dive bar was Dean’s idea, of course. The job had gone well, surprisingly well, like no major injuries to them well, so Dean’s idea to drink until the world went black actually sounded like a good idea.

Thinking back now as Sam painstakingly peeled his eyes open, drinking every bottle of beer the bar had was a stupid idea and he had a stupid brother and the sun was stupid and oh my god why was he so stupid too?

Pushing himself up on his arm, Sam turned to face Dean’s bed as he opened his eyes but found the other queen-sized motel bed empty. What he didn’t find empty was the spot next to him in his motel bed. A female-shaped lump was laying on her belly, her face turned away from him, black hair with fire engine red streaks spilling over her pale, freckled, and tattooed shoulders.

“Holy shit,” Sam muttered. “How drunk was I?”

“Pretty well arseholed if you ask me, dearest,” came a British voice from deep inside the visitor’s pillow. Sam held his breath as she turned over. You never know what you’re going to see when a one-night stand rolls over and looks at you. He wasn’t disappointed: dark chocolate eyes, pale skin, a nose sprinkled with freckles, and lips so full and red Sam wondered if this girl and Kate Winslet were related.

“Hi,” Sam said, trying to hide a smile of delight.

“Hi? That’s all I get? A ‘hi’?” the girl laughed. “After last night, I’d expect a ‘I worship the ground you walk on.’”

Sam blushed. “Yeah. Well … uh …”

The girl snickered as she sat up, pulling the sheet up over her impressive chest. Sam tried not to stare at the size of her breasts, but it was hard to drag his eyes away.

“It’s all right, love,” the girl responded, taking Sam’s ogling in stride like she’s seen it all before. “I don’t remember much either.”

“No?” Sam smiled at her, trying to turn on a little Winchester charm.

The girl arched a round, thick black eyebrow at him. “What are you doing there, hunter?” she asked sardonically. “You think your sexy smile will work? You’re not your brother, you know.”

Sam jerked away from this mysterious girl on his bed and reached immediately for the closest weapon he could find. The girl cocked her head to the side and watched his hand grope for a blade.

“Oh, Sam, calm down,” she said witheringly. “I’m a hunter too. I’m called Branna. Branna Hayes.”

“Wait. You’re a hunter?” Sam asked.

Branna shrugged, the sheet coming dangerously close to slipping from its perch on her round breasts. Sam’s eyes flicked down again. He was suddenly and very painfully aware of his pounding hangover and growing erection.

“Were you at the bar last night?” Sam asked.

Branna nodded, pushing her black hair back over her shoulders. The amount of her hair, the sheer volume of it, made Sam’s fingers itch. He wanted to run his hand up the back of her head, tangle his fingers in its length, and pull.

“I could use some water,” Branna said suddenly as if she was abruptly desperate to get away from the close quarters of the bed. Sam’s huge, overpowering presence was making her edgy and nervous and his visible need was showing itself under the cheap motel sheet. With a quick glance down at the lifted material that caused her to bite her lip like a teenager, Branna slipped out of the bed naked and headed into the bathroom.

The bathroom door slammed more forcefully than truly necessary. Sam fell back onto his pillow, covering his eyes with his forearm. One night stands were never easy to get rid but this one was worse. A female hunter was in his bathroom, probably washing up and getting dressed. Hopefully washing up and getting dressed. God, let her get out of here before--

“Sammy!” The motel room door banged open, admitting an overly-cheerful Dean loaded down with coffee and a bag most likely containing doughnuts. “How ya doin’, buddy?”

Sam sat up like he was shot out of a cannon. His head swiveled toward the bathroom door then over to Dean, who was throwing his jacket across a chair.

“Still in bed?” Dean teased, shoving half a pastry in his mouth. “C’mon, man. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Uh … well … heh …” Sam sat up and grabbed at the nearest shirt he could find. Unfortunately, it was a small green tee shirt with a deep v-neck and very obviously not his.

Dean arched an eyebrow. “Well done, Sammy!” Dean took a swig of coffee, then almost choked. “Wait. Is she still here?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Both Winchesters looked from the shirt in Sam’s hand to the bathroom door. Branna stood in the doorway, wearing only a pair a boy short panties. Her utter fearlessness at being nearly naked in front of two men she didn’t know spoke volumes about her confidence in her ability to protect herself.

“Can I have my clothes please?” she asked next.

Dean snapped to attention first. Gathering up her clothes, he sauntered over to her wearing his cockiest Dean Winchester grin. Branna barely blinked under the full assault of his charms as she took her clothes from him then closed the door in his face. Dean swung around and faced Sam, who had taken Branna’s distraction to throw on whatever clothes he could find within arms’ reach.

“Dude. The fuck?” Dean asked. “That’s one hell of a--”

“She’s a hunter, Dean,” Sam interrupted.

“What?”

“She’s a hunter. I picked up a hunter.”

Dean laughed shortly, mirthlessly. “Only you, Sammy.”

“Where we you last night?” Sam asked, trying to divert attention from his bad decision making skills.

“With the bartender. And her friend.” Dean winked at Sam over his cup.

Sam shook his head, sighing. Dean bristled at the judgement.

“Man, don’t shake your head at me,” he snapped. “You’ve got a girl-hunter in the shower in there, probably using up all your conditioner.”

Sam groaned. “I know.”

Dean laid a gun on the table amidst the doughnuts. “We have to get rid of her.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean!”

“I don’t mean kill her, Sammy! I just mean get her to leave.”

Sam glared at his brother as he pulled on his boots from the edge of his bed. “If she’s a real hunter, I doubt she’ll hang out for breakfast.”

“You’re absolutely right, Sam.” Branna said as she strolled out of the bathroom, drying her hair. She tossed the towel on the sex-rumpled bed and stopped to appraise the boys with hands on her hips. Dressed in jeans, the green tee shirt, a white tank top, Docs, and a shoulder gun holster, Branna stood at barely 5’3”. She was curvy with those impressive tits and a soft, rounded frame that didn’t look like it could take down a fairy in a fight, let alone a real monster.

While Sam and Dean watched, Branna knelt down with a dancer’s grace and pulled a very large gun out from between the box-spring and mattress. She tucked it into the empty holster before pulling on a form-fitting black jacket.

“Nice to meet you, Dean,” Branna said. She paused on her walk out the door to drop a long, lingering kiss on a very surprised Sam’s mouth. Without pulling her face away from his, she whispered, “Thanks for last night, Sam.” She headed to the door, snagging a doughnut from the bag on her way out, whistling.

And with that, Branna Hayes was gone.

Dean looked out the window as she climbed into a beat up Chevy Cavalier and drove off. Turning back to Sam, who hadn’t moved, Dean exhaled a laugh at his brother’s shocked face.

“I think you just got laid by the girl version of me, Sammy,” Dean teased.

The brothers looked at each other and shuddered disgustedly at the same time.


	2. Chapter 2

The next town the boys hit was experiencing an outbreak of weird behavior from the woman. Every one of them was prim, proper, and practically perfect in every way. Dean couldn’t keep his pop culture references under control. It was driving Sam mad.

“Man, look at all the Stepford Wives, Sammy.” Dean’s green eyes were rolling this way and that in his head with glee. “Just look at ‘em. They’re all like every dude’s fantasy.”

“Exactly, Dean,” Sam snapped, more than annoyed at his older brother’s complete inability to focus on the task at hand. “There’s something wrong. Can you pay attention?”

Dean almost dislocated his neck, craning to stare at a pair of gorgeous women in skimpy yoga gear who strolled by in perfectly matched strides.

“Jesus, Sammy. Just look at them,” Dean grinned excitedly at his younger brother, who was tapping furiously at his laptop, trying to find some kind of explanation for the phenomena.

“It’s every woman in town, Dean, regardless of age. They’ve all been turned into perfect mothers, wives, centerfolds, and angelic children. Look.”

Sam pointed at a woman dressed in a full 50s style outfit, complete with hat and gloves, walking across the street with her daughter, about 9, who was dressed similarly. Dean’s mirth quickly disappeared.

“Even the kids?” he asked, immediately concerned. Dean was all for practically perfect in every way grown women, but when you start messing around with kids, he became all business.

“Yeah.” Sam was relieved that Dean snapped back into work mode. “There isn’t a woman in town who hasn’t reverted into some man’s fantasy about what a woman should be.”

“I see one,” Dean commented, taking a drink of his coffee and pointing to the door of the diner. “She might be yours though.”

“What? Where?” Sam asked, turning in his seat.

Framed in the doorway of the diner, from her scuffed Doc Martens to her raven black hair, Branna Hayes took in the room. When her brown eyes fell on the Winchesters, she rolled them toward the ceiling and headed over.

“Here she comes, Sammy,” Dean whispered.

“What is she doing here?” Sam whispered back.

“Hunting, Sam,” Branna answered as she sat down uninvited. “Same as you two.”

Dean grinned, his humor restored, as Sam shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Branna smelled like warm skin, rosemary, sage, and lavender. The red streaks in her hair reflected the sunlight. Sitting down, she was even smaller than Sam remembered and he tried not to reflect on how he had sex with her and didn’t crush her under his massive size and weight.

“So. Whatcha got?” Branna asked as she helped herself to a piece of Sam’s breakfast melon.

Dean looked between Branna, who was chewing and waiting for an answer, and Sam, who couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her and was--wait, _was_ he?--blushing. Sighing, Dean answered for his brother.

“All the women in this town are Stepford-ized,” he replied. “We don’t know if they’re still human or cyborgs or what. None of them will talk to us.”

Branna smirked. “Not something you have a lot of experience with, Dean?”

Dean shrugged. “Not really.”

Branna turned to Sam, who seemingly hadn’t blinked. “Sam? Ideas?”

When Sam didn’t respond, Dean rolled his eyes and kicked him under the table.

“Ow! Yeah! What?” Sam stammered, snapping out of his trance.

“Oh, for the love of …” Dean grumbled. “Sam! Research!”

Sam looked down at his laptop, glad his long hair could hide his red face. Typing furiously, he tried to think of something intelligent to say while Branna and Dean looked at him expectantly. After a few minutes of hurried and desperate typing, Sam admitted defeat to himself and closed his laptop.

“I got nothing,” he said.

“Well, there’s a first,” Dean said sarcastically.

Branna nodded sagely. “My last partner was the research guy. Now I do it all.”

Dean’s suspicion was immediately up. “Last partner?” he demanded.

Branna’s brown eyes met Dean’s green ones in a level glare. “Yeah,” she responded evenly. “My last partner. My boyfriend. He met some victim on a case and stayed with her to play house. I moved on.”

Sam felt the tension growing between Branna and Dean and stepped in to counteract it.

“Look,” he said, “we need to get close to one of these women. We need to talk to them. Branna can help.”

“I can?” Branna asked at the same time Dean asked, “She can?”

“Yes,” Sam agreed. “Look at her. She’s exactly what they’re not. If they’re possessed or robots, they’ll want to make her just like them to keep the status quo.”

“And then I can become some townie’s girl-bot?” Branna asked. “Great. Can’t wait.”

“We don’t need her, Sammy,” Dean argued.

“Maybe not,” Sam said. “But it can’t hurt.” Sam turned to Branna. “What do you think?”

Branna tried not to make eye contact with the gorgeous mass of man mountain next to her, but it was nearly impossible. Despite being a highly trained killer whose reputation preceded him, Sam Winchester had the most innocent face Branna had ever seen on a hunter in her life. Those clear brown eyes the color of whiskey made it inconceivable to say no. Branna sighed.

“Fine,” she said. “But if I become Stepford-ized, shoot me.”

“No problem.” Dean stuck his hand across the table and Branna shook it.

The only motel in town had all their rooms available. The clerk behind the counter was shocked when the three hunters strode in, booked two rooms, paid in cash, and informed him that they shouldn’t be disturbed at all. For anything.

The town’s 1950s Americana feel had crept into the hotel too. Branna felt uneasy in such a pristine, prim room and headed over to the Winchesters’ room to hide from such perfection. She wasn’t disappointed: the boys had spread an arsenal of weapons across one of the beds. Unsure of what they were facing, it seems Dean’s philosophy was “Bring it all in from the trunk.” Branna smiled. She had to admire his way of thinking.

Sam sat at the table, working on the laptop. He seemed a lot more focused now, hardly noticing that Branna had even entered the room. He had shed plaid shirt to reveal a tight white tee shirt, the sun from the windows behind him reflecting off the material. The muscles in Sam’s arms and back rippled ever so slightly as he typed and flipped pages in the old journal next to him. Branna breathed out slowly. God, he was fucking spectacular.

Sam’s apparent obliviousness was a total ruse. When Branna shrugged out of her jacket, revealing her curves, Sam’s body reacted immediately. She definitely wasn’t shaped like the willowy girls he usually dated. Not that it mattered, apparently, because parts of Sam were more than happy to enjoy the shape she had. Leaning over the bed to get a closer look at one of Dean’s guns, Branna’s round ass was mere inches from Sam’s hand. He could have reached out, cupped one cheek in a massive hand, wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her over to him, crushing her short frame against him while burying his face in her neck, drowning in all that thick black hair.

Sam’s thoughts must have been all over his face because the look he caught Dean giving him, sardonic, knowing, made Sam duck his head again and find a frozen website on his laptop really fascinating.

Enough of this shit, Dean thought. Out loud, he said, “All right. Sammy? Whatcha got?”

“So. Get this.” Sam turned the laptop toward Branna and Dean, who both leaned over the table toward him. A necklace swung out of Branna’s shirt, beaning Sam in the face. When he looked over to see what the charm was, the swell of Branna’s cleavage almost blinded him with lust. Since standing up to get away from her _was not_ an option, Sam slammed his chair back a few inches to rid himself of the view and the heady scent of Branna’s lavender and rosemary skin. “Right. So,” Sam began again, his voice shaking a little, “I don’t think they’re sirens because the men in town aren’t acting all crazy and trying to kill each other--”

“Yet,” Branna interrupted.

“That we know of,” Dean added.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Sam continued loudly, “I think they’re some kind of vila, morphing into mens’ fantasies. But I don’t know why.”

“Vila are tricky, though,” Branna said. “They can be really helpful or really vengeful. There’s no middle with them.”

“But they’re hot, right?” Dean asked eagerly. “Like super hot?”

“Yes, Dean,” Branna said impatiently, “but also super dangerous. You never know which vila you’re gonna get.”

Dean shrugged, his green eyes gleaming. “I’m willing to take that chance.”

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean’s hormones, not noticing the similarities between the two of them at the moment. Branna laughed, bumping Dean with her hip.

“So, we have to find out what these vila want and what? Rid the town of their awesome sexiness?” Dean asked. “That doesn’t seem fair to the town.”

“No, what doesn’t seem fair for the town is if the vila decide to get cranky and lead all the menfolk in a wicked dance party and gangnam style until all the dudes drop dead,” Branna said.

Dean smirked. “Right. Good point.”


	3. Chapter 3

The plan for the night was to get Branna all dolled up and head off to the only pub in town with Sam and Dean in tow to see if she could meet up with vilas trolling for any remaining humans not under their spell. After a days’ recon on the streets of _Leave It To Beaver_ Ville (Dean’s name, of course), it was pretty obvious to the three hunters that the vila had taken over the women in town, turning each one from the normal person the men in her family knew to the fantasy version the men in her family actually wanted: the perfect mom, the perfect wife, the sexpot, etc. Even the little girls in town turned into what their dads wanted: perfectly behaved, perfect students, perfect athletes. Branna bristled at the idea of a town full of men who didn’t seem to notice or didn’t seem to care that all the women in their lives were not who they originally had.

“Jesus, what’s taking her so goddamn long?” Dean grumped.

He and Sam were waiting for Branna to emerge from her bathroom. She’d been in there for almost an hour, showering, dressing, make-uping. It was causing Dean amounts of undue stress. Dean banged on the door.

“Let’s frigging go already!” he shouted.

“Look, do you want good or do you want bait?” Branna yelled back.

Dean took a step back from the door while Sam chuckled. In Dean’s vast experience with women, female hunters were not something he came across a lot. When he did, they weren’t the most friendly of people. Not that male hunters were a joyous bunch, but Dean’s unnatural good looks usually made women much more susceptible to his charms. It seems that Branna fell into the “not susceptible female hunters” bunch.

“C’mon, Dean,” Sam said easily. “Sometimes girls take a while.”

“Yeah, well, I just want to get this going,” Dean growled, pacing.

Sam leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs. He’d spent years waiting for Jess to get ready for dates, so waiting for another girl to get ready wasn’t that big of a deal.

The bathroom door banged open and Branna came out. Her black hair was wavy and glossy and fell over her shoulders and back. A black lace see thru shirt with a red lace cami underneath hugged her full breasts and skimmed over her little pot belly. Her jeans were skin tight, emphasizing her round ass and thighs. Instead of Docs, Branna tripped out of the bathroom in red high heels that barely made her 5’6”, but added enough height to even out the delicious curves of her form.

“Well?” she asked, hips on her hips, looking for male approval.

Dean and Sam just stared. Dean cleared his throat. Sam shifted in his seat. Dean tugged on his coat. Sam pulled the bottom of his shirt over his lap.

“Well?” Branna sounded desperate. “Seriously, guys. I don’t dress like this. How do I look?”

Dean came to first. “You look … you look sexy. As hell. Sexy as hell is hot.”

“Sam?” Branna asked, looking across the room at him.

Sam wondered how he would handle this. His dick obviously thought she looked great, there was no doubt about that, but could he conjugate words into a coherent sentence to let Branna know that the rest of him was applauding just as hard as his junk was?

Knowing his shirt was just long enough to cover the sudden, raging hard-on he had, Sam stood up and walked across the room to where Branna stood. She looked up at him, smiling uncertainly but with a hint of sly confidence, as he put his hands on her shoulders, leaned over to her ear and whispered breathily, “Amazing.”

Branna shivered as Sam’s hot breath tickled her ear and neck, setting off a cavalcade of goosebumps all over her skin. Just the whiff of his cologne mixed with the warm scent of beer on his lips sent her hormones reeling in 40 different directions.

“Thanks,” she murmured back.

Dean watched this intimate exchange with narrowed green eyes and a little smirk on his full lips. He knew he was going back to the room alone that night.

The only bar in Pleasantville (again, thank you, Dean) was of a medium size with heavy wooden bar, a mirror back, bright lighting and enough tables to fit most of the population. Each table held a couple: one normal looking guy and one stunning woman. Branna walked in with Sam and Dean on her flanks, letting it look like she was leading the pack. Her height versus their heights made her stand out even more. The females in the room turned their heads to her as one, then exchanged glances with each other. Their men barely noticed, enthralled as they were by their women.

“C’mon, lads. To the bar,” Branna said in an overly-loud voice, putting on an even more English accent than she already had.

One by one the men at the tables turned their heads and subversively watched this curvy, wild-haired English lass lead her two men to the bar, where the bartender waited anxiously.

“You shouldn’t be in here,” he hissed at them as they sat down.

“Why not?” Dean demanded, slapping his wallet down on the wood.

“You just shouldn’t. Just go,” the bartender insisted, looking around worriedly.

“We’re paying customers. Or, we will be,” Sam said.

“I can’t--” but the bartender was cut off when a blonde woman with ice blue eyes walked up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder.

“Roger. Now, now, pet,” she purred. “Let’s give these three a drink, shall we?” She turned her cold smile to the three hunters. Branna recoiled slightly when she saw the venom in her face. “What will you all have? No, no. Don’t tell me.” She looked at the boys, smiling warmly. “Beer and whiskey for these handsome men. And, for the _lady_ ”--the blonde turned to Branna, where her smile dropped and was replaced by a cruel, frozen stare--”a pint of bitters. Am I right?” When the hunters didn’t answer, the blonde turned to the bartender. “Well, Roger? The drinks?”

“Yes, of course. Dear.” Roger scurried off to retrieve the drinks.

“So,” the blonde said conversationally, leaning against the bar, “what brings you beautiful souls to our little town?”

“Just passing through,” Branna answered, cutting Dean off as he began to speak. Dean glared at her and did the shot Roger meekly put in front of him. “Nothing else.”

“And which one of these is your husband?” the blonde asked.

Branna laughed, tossing her hair about before leveling the blonde with a sultry, knowing smile and a wink. “Neither.”

The blonde’s face became a mask. “I see.”

Branna shrugged. “We don’t see the point in it, really. Do we, lads?”

Sam leaned over, sliding one arm around Branna’s waist, pulling her stool closer to his. The closeness of Branna, the smell of her, the quickness of her breathing at his touch almost made Sam drop his act, but he smiled instead, arching a knowing eyebrow and kissed Branna on the side of the head. Dean didn’t feel the need to put on a show: he just eyed the blonde up and down and gave her the patented Winchester smirk.

The blonde didn’t look like she believed Branna had such men under her control, so she put on her best customer service grin and kept their drinks coming. The night wore on, the beer and whiskey didn’t stop, and the three hunters lost count of how many shot glasses lined up before them. Branna traded her bitters in for whiskey and beer with “her lads,” who seemed to delight in pretending to be her lovers. They play-squabbled over who would order her next drink, took turns letting her curl up in their arms, and traded sexually innuendo charged comments.

Leaning up against Dean’s broad chest with his arms slung over her shoulders so his hands rested on her thighs, Branna watched Sam as he hit back a shot. His head tossed back, his neck exposed, the way his hard chest rose and fell as he swallowed and breathed. Dean’s hands moved to her waist, coming to rest on her hips, but she didn’t even notice. Her eyes drank Sam in, admiring the way his body moved, how comfortable he seemed in his skin. God, he was sexy.

All around them, the pub pulsed with animosity. The blonde’s anger at Branna seemed to have passed to all the other women, who watched the three with unblinking eyes. The fact that there was a man for each other them didn’t seem to matter. Here were two men--two ridiculously handsome men--who wanted nothing to do with any of them and it seemed to fuel their silent fire of fury.

Dean looked around, catching the glares they were getting. Pushing back from the bar, he leaned into Branna’s ear.

“Time to go. Be ready,” he whispered.

Without words, Dean conveyed the same message to Sam, who immediately sobered up. Branna climbed down from her stool and stumbled into Sam, who caught her easily. He held her only a second before the three of them exited the pub in a hurry. Their departure was watched by all the pairs of female eyes.

Climbing into the Impala, Dean didn’t wait for any of them to get settled before driving off.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“The blonde is the leader. Definitely,” Sam said.

Branna agreed from the back seat. “Did you see them, watching you two? They all had a man, but all they wanted was you.”

“Because you had us, Bran?” Dean teased.

“That would be the _only_ reason,” Branna teased back.

“We need to be ready in case they come for us tonight,” Sam said, cutting off the teasing. The way Dean had held Branna in the pub had set his teeth on edge. He knew they were supposed to be a threesome of lovers, but there was no reason for Dean to be so … so … so _intimate_ with her. “We should hold up in our room. Safety in numbers.”

Branna shook her head. “Sorry, lads. I need to sleep in my own room. I want to be able to shower and sleep naked and, if I need you, I’ll scream for you.”

“You should stay with us, Branna,” Dean insisted.

“No.” Branna refused again. “I’ve been working alone for 4 years and I’ve yet to be thrown over by a monster.”

Dean shrugged. “If you say so.”

“Dean …” Sam muttered.

“Sammy, let it go. If Branna needs us, she’ll scream for us.” Dean glanced at the girl lounged in the backseat, arms behind her head, back arched, and making little happy whimpers sounds as she stretched.

“I’m quite a screamer,” Branna agreed.

Sam followed Dean’s eyes, saw what he was looking at, and watched her a little too long. Branna caught his look, dropped her chin and gave Sam the longest, sexiest stare he’d seen in a while.

Back at the motel, Branna scooped up her shoes before walking up the door of her room. With the key in the door, she turned to Sam and Dean, smiling.

“Thanks for a lovely evening, lads,” she teased. “Let’s hope I don’t get slaughtered in my sleep by a town full of vila tonight, all right?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning for the faint of heart or prudish: Herein this chapter lies some sex. Okay, more than some.

Dean laughed at Branna’s bravado before heading inside. Sam paused before walking in, still watching as Branna turned the doorknob. She turned to look at him, her brown eyes liquidy with whiskey. They watched each other standing there, feet from each other, bodies tensed and ready for sex or a fight or both, breath quickening. Branna bit her lip and let out a shaky breath as Sam’s gaze traveled from her bare feet, up her legs, over her hips and belly, pausing lingeringly at her breasts and throat before arriving back at her eyes. His look was so piercing, it almost felt like he was running his hands over her.

“Good night, Sam,” she whispered shakily before going into her room and shutting the door.

Sam stayed in the doorway of his motel room, not moving, trying to decide what to do. Inside the room, Dean had stripped off his boots and jacket, glancing over to see his younger brother’s huge frame hulking in the doorway.

“Jesus Christ!” Dean muttered to himself. He shoved Sam out the door and onto the pavement. “Get over there. Stop thinking.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Dean closed the motel door, locking him out. Sam paused on the sidewalk. Branna’s room was dimly lit (probably the light from the bathroom). He couldn’t see her silhouette, but he knew she was in there, obviously. With his heart pounding, Sam knocked on her door.

Less than 5 seconds later, Branna whipped the door open. She was there in her red lace cami and another pair of those incredibly sexy boy shorts. Her face was scrubbed free of make up, exposing her freckles. She looked relieved.

“What took you so long?” she demanded.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam replied. He grabbed her up, kicking the door closed behind him as they kissed.

The height difference made kissing with Branna on the floor impossible, but Sam’s strength made it simple to hold her in midair. Branna wrapped her legs around his waist, so Sam held her under her ass. Their lips mashed together, tongues entwined, teeth grinding, in a desperate attempt to kiss as much and as hard as possible. Sam pulled his mouth from hers to bury it in the impressive cleavage spilling out of her cami while Branna moaned at the touch.

With Branna’s legs still latched around his waist and her arms around him holding onto the back of his shirt, Sam used his free arms to strip off his jacket. He threw her off of him, bouncing her onto the bed. She giggled when she landed and watched as Sam pulled off his plaid shirt and then his tee shirt, exposing the unreal beauty of his sculpted body.

“Oh, my dearest lad,” Branna breathed. “You’re frigging glorious.”

“You are,” Sam shot back, climbed up the bed to her. He kissed up her shins and calves to her soft thighs, pausing ever so slightly to place a gentle, teasing kiss on her mound before pulling her cami over her head. Branna let him unhook her bra deftly with two fingers and then pulled it off herself, slowly, tantalizingly, knowing that Sam wanted to bury his face between her tits more than anything.

With her bra off, Branna threw her arms over her head and grasped the headboard so her back arched. Sam drank in the sight of her. She was curvy and soft and sexy and oh my god, those tits were … Sam couldn’t even think of a word as he took a hard nipple in his mouth and sucked it.

Branna tangled her fingers into Sam’s hair while he licked, bit, and sucked on her breasts. He held himself up with one arm while the other hand reached between her legs. Moving her panties out of the way, Sam’s fingers found Branna’s opening, already wet, already ready. Sam rolled his thumb over her clit, making Branna cry out and thrust her hips forwards to meet his touch. Sitting up a little as Sam moved his mouth from breast to neck to throat to breast again, Branna frantically worked at getting Sam’s belt unbuckled.

When she finally succeeded in getting his jeans undone, Branna hooked her toes around his waist band and pushed them down. Next that went down was Sam’s black boxer briefs, freeing his thick erection. Branna used all her strength to roll Sam off of her, pushing his mouth and fingers away from exploring her body. Laying flat on his back left Sam exposed to Branna’s mouth. Straddling his hips so his dick nestled between her legs against her soaked panties, Branna kissed Sam hard on the mouth. Sam grabbed Branna’s hips and ground her crotch against his dick, moaning deep in his throat, before Branna pinned his hands above his head.

“No,” she ordered hoarsely. “Don’t touch.”

Sam left his hands off her as Branna kissed, nipped, and licked her way over his chiseled chest, pausing at his nipples to tease them with her tongue. Sam moaned again, making Branna pause and glance up at him.

“You like that?” she whispered.

“Don’t stop,” Sam growled.

“Yes, my love,” Branna replied.

Sam’s body moved against Branna’s as she slid her way down his chest. He knew what was coming. She knew what was coming. With the volume of Sam’s groans, Dean next door probably knew what was coming.

Sam’s hips jerked involuntarily as Branna’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock. Branna pushed his hips against the mattress to hold him down. Her tongue swirled around and around the head before she plunged her mouth down the length of Sam’s shaft. Not even the most well-trained porn fluffer could master Sam’s substantial cock, but Branna did her best, working her mouth up and down the massive endlessness of it. Sam must have appreciated her efforts because his moans grew louder and louder.

“Oh, god ... oh, god ... oh, my goddamn god!”

Sam lifted his hips off the bed, almost choking Branna, who let his dick pop out of her mouth.

“Don’t you cum yet,” she ordered

“Hell, no. Oh, hell fucking no,” Sam groaned. “Get on top of me.”

Branna ripped her panties off and lowered herself onto Sam’s rigid member. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, inch by inch, Branna let Sam slide into her. Without realizing she was moving, Branna started to roll her hips, feeling the full span of Sam’s cock inside her. Sam reached up and grabbed her waist, then sat up so their chests met in a smash of hot skin against hot skin. Sam shifted them both further up on the bed so Branna could hold onto the headboard while they moved against each other. His hands tangled in her raven black hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck, which he attacked with lips and teeth.

“Oh, Sam, don’t stop!” Branna begged in a husky voice.

Thrusting, thrusting, thrusting as deep as he could go into that hot, wet slit, Sam moaned into Branna’s neck. Suddenly, violently, Branna tightened her whole body up and arched backwards as she came, letting out a shriek that sounded like it was ripped from the bottom of her soul.

The sound of her ecstasy almost made Sam lose pace. With a primal roar of his own, Sam pounded harder. Branna came again and again, soaking his lap with blazing hot liquid.

_Don’t fucking cum, Winchester!_ Sam’s brain screamed at him as he slammed his pelvis against Branna’s.

With a move that would impress even the most jaded porn aficionado, Sam flung Branna onto her back without losing his rhythm and rode her harder. Branna dug her heels into the mattress and lifted her hips to meet Sam’s, changing the position of her pussy and letting Sam plunge in even deeper. Sam’s guttural moan told Branna her new position worked so she slammed her hips against his as their pelvises met.

“Harder, Sam, harder!” Branna demanded, raking her nails down Sam’s side, digging gouges into his skin.

“Fuck! Branna!” Sam arched his back, slamming his cock into Branna so hard he almost shoved her off the edge of the bed as he came.

Sam collapsed onto Branna, nearly crushing her under his immense frame. Branna’s breath came out of her in a rush as Sam’s full weight toppled over on her. They lay like that for only a few seconds before Branna tapped desperately on Sam’s shoulder.

“Yeah?” Sam asked hazily, lifting his head to look at her.

“Can’t … breathe …” Branna gasped.

“Shit. Shit! Sorry!” Sam raised himself off her chest and Branna panted.

“Oh, love. It’s okay,” she reassured him between gulps of air.

Sam felt Branna’s body tremble underneath him. Her pussy still convulsed around his cock, making it jump with each contraction. Each jump made Branna whimper in recognition of how his body made hers feel. Sam started to pull out, but Branna held him there for another minute. She closed her eyes and rolled her whole body, arching her back and purring like a cat, keeping his cock inside her the whole time. It was easily the hottest thing a girl had ever done after sex with him.

Settling against the pillows, Sam curled Branna to his chest. She rested her head in the hollow of his collarbone, trailing her fingertips over the definition of his muscles. Sam closed his eyes and let her fingers explore, enjoying the tender way they danced over his skin. Tracing his fingers up and down her spine, then her back, Sam felt knotted muscles and scars, something girls he usually hooked up with didn’t have.

Opening his eyes, Sam glanced down at Branna. Her eyes were closed and a little smile played across her lips. She was clearly enjoying blindly walking her fingers across his chest, so he looked down at her back. Her pale skin was a tapestry of her job: scars, twisted bits of skin, badly sewn-up wounds, and a green, purple, and golden Celtic dragon tattoo at the base of her spine. There was a Celtic cross on each shoulder, one gold, one black. Surprisingly, Sam found these imperfections beautiful. It showed her dedication to hunting. It showed her fearlessness. It showed that she was alive.

“Penny for ‘em?” Branna’s soft accent caressed each word.

“I’m just looking,” Sam replied just as soft.

“My scars?” Branna asked. Sam nodded. Branna blinked, her long black eyelashes touching her cheeks before she looked up at him again. “Part of the job, yeah?”

Sam nodded again, afraid to speak. A lot of his scars were deeper, just as permanent, but hidden from sight.

Branna studied Sam in the dim light from the bathroom. The sex was over. But he wasn’t going anywhere. Sam seemed content enough to stay there all night, his strong arms around her zaftig figure. Sure, he was a wicked killer, but there was something under Sam’s surface. Something lost, something innocent, something desperate to be saved.

Before anything between them could get maudlin, Sam felt Branna shift a little closer. Her chin rested on his chest now, her breasts pressed against him. Just the weight and shape of her them turned Sam on again.

“C’mere,” he whispered to Branna, who complied so quickly he knew she’d been waiting to be invited.

Morning came early, too early, in Dean’s opinion. After listening to Sam and Branna ride each other all night long, the last thing Dean wanted was to be woken up at the ass-crack of dawn by Sam, who tried to be quiet when he came into the room and failed miserably by crashing over the chair nearest to the door.

“Jesus!” Dean cursed at his younger brother, who at least had the decency of pretending to look sorry. “What the hell, Sammy?”

“Sorry, man,” Sam replied, not meaning it in the least.

Dean sat up, knowing sleep was a fleeting fantasy now that Sam was back. Sam gathered up clean clothes and was heading into the bathroom without so much as a glance Dean’s way. Well, that wasn’t going to fly.

“Good time last night?” Dean asked.

Sam shot Dean a withering glare. “You know I’m not gonna say anything.”

“Fine. Sure. You don’t have to,” Dean replied, shrugging. “I heard all of it anyway.”

Sam paused, looking surprised. Dean was pretty sure the thought that sound travelled hadn’t occurred to Sam. The fact that the two rooms shared an adjoining wall probably didn’t occur to him either. Dean smirked.

“She sounded nice,” Dean said.

Sam blushed involuntarily. “Shut up, Dean.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with vila lore. Believe it or not, I had a bitch of a time trying to find a lot on vila out here on the Interwebs.

Branna and Dean met in the parking lot next to their cars. Branna was back in her uniform of jeans-tee-Docs; gone was the sex kitten from the night before. Dean sighed, sorry to see that Branna over and done with for now

“Hey,” he said.

“Morning, Dean.” Branna twirled her car keys around her index finger before catching them. She hopped onto the hood of her car in one fluid movement, pulling her hair to one side to braid it. The exposed part of her neck had been bit hard during the night and still showed the evidence.

“Nice hickey,” Dean commented.

“You should see the one on my nipple,” Branna replied without skipping a beat.

Dean’s green eyes widened before dropping down to check out the curve of her tits under a thin tee shirt.

“Knock it off,” Branna ordered and Dean glanced away, smirking.

Sam came out of the room and saw Branna and Dean snickering at each other. Jealousy reared its head, briefly, before Sam tamped it back down again. It was no time to get all pissy over a girl, but man, Dean _always_ got the girl. He couldn’t have the girl _for once_? Branna looked over at Sam, her smile could have lit up the sky at the sight of him. Still sitting on the hood of her car, the sun blazing down on her black hair, lighting up her pale skin, glinting off the gun peeking out from under her jacket, she was a vision. Sam swallowed hard.

“So, what’s the game plan for the day, my lovelies?” Branna asked the boys cheerfully. Sam sidled up next to her car, perching on the edge of the hood next to her. Branna slung a leg around either side of him, pressing herself against his back, and wrapping her arms around him from behind.

The intimacy of their casual embrace after listening to them all night made Dean smirk. If Sam could hook up with a random hunter and make it look easy, why couldn’t Dean find a little fun in town? Of course, a random hook-up in a town of vila and the men who worshiped them was going to be a hell of a test, but Dean was always up for a challenge.

"I think you should track down the blonde from the bar,” Sam was saying. “If she really is the queen of this nest, you should try to convince her that you want the power all the others have.”

“That’s a good plan, Sammy,” Dean agreed, parking his ass next to Sam and Branna. He was surprised, but not too surprised, when he felt Branna’s small hand curl affectionately around the back of his neck. Her fingers were thin and soft and her nails were sharp as they twisted into his short hair. Dean’s green eyes met Branna’s chocolate brown eyes briefly and he was jolted by the not so subtle eye fucking she gave him.

"I guess I’ll go then,” Branna commented, her husky voice caressing both brothers’ ears like auditory sex. They both shifted to look at her as she unwrapped herself from around Sam’s body and slid off the car. She turned to face them, pleased and a little turned on by the identical, hungry looks she was getting from candy apple green and whiskey brown eyes. “You know you have to get off my car so I can leave.”

“Right!” The brothers scrambled off the hood of her Cavalier as she curled a smile at them both. Sam never noticed that dimple in her right cheek. Dean never noticed how red her lips were.

“I’ll see ya later then, my lads?” Branna purred before driving away.

Turning toward each other at the same time, Sam and Dean wore identical, dumbfounded grins. When they saw their brothers’ face, the grins disappeared quickly.

The bar was empty. The only person there was Roger the hen-pecked bartender. Branna sat herself at the bar, waiting for him to come over.

“Any time you’re ready, Rog,” she called over to him.

Roger made nervous eye contact, his hands shaking, before disappearing into the back. Branna’s hackles went up immediately. She stood up. Her hand went for her Smith & Wesson. She was assessing the room for cover when the icy queen blonde strolled out of the back office with a sickly blonde waif at her heels.

The blonde sat down at one of the tables, gesturing Branna over to her. Branna approached cautiously, gun in hand, ready to fight.

“Welcome,” the blonde vila said smoothly. “”You’re the woman from the other night. The one with the two very handsome males.”

Branna bristled at the word ‘males,’ but joined the vila at her table, still holding her gun which she trained directly at the blonde’s chest.

“That can’t hurt me, you know,” the vila told her. Her voice was like honey, with an under-hint of steel.

“No,” Branna agreed, “but it can hurt like hell so I can get away.”

“You know what I am?” the vila asked.

“Yes, you’re vila.”

“And your name is, Huntress?”

“I’m Branna. Branna Hayes.”

“I am Evonnia,” the blonde vila replied. She motioned behind her. “And this is my daughter, Jovanna.”

Branna’s eyes flicked over the blonde girl. She was frail and sickly, hardly worth noticing, but it was when you didn’t notice that the bad things happened. Branna nodded briskly at Jovanna, then turned her attention back to Evonnia.

“Well, welcome,” Evonnia said. “What can I do for you, Branna Hayes?”

“Look,” Branna cleared her throat. “I’d have to be blind not to notice that something’s going on in this town. But I saw … I saw how the men behave. I saw how …” Branna paused, swallowing. Why was this so hard? “ _Worshipful_ they are of you and all the women here. And I want that.”

“You want that?” Evonnia asked carefully.

“Yes, I _want that_ ,” Branna insisted. “With mine. With my men. I want them to worship me.”

"I see.” Evonnia touched her cheek briefly before resting her pointed chin on her hand. “Branna Hayes, are you sure about that? Do you know what you’re asking?”

“I know what I’m asking,” Branna snapped. “I know. I know you’re vila. I know you’re powerful. I know you can make things happen. I know what you’re capable of. And I want what you all have with your men with my men.”

“Branna Hayes, you can only have one man,” Evonnia told her.

“What?”

“You can only have _one man_ ,” Evonnia repeated.

“But, I thought--thought--” Branna stammered.

“You thought wrong,” Evonnia interrupted simply. Roger appeared, handing Evonnia and Jovanna glasses of mead, before scurrying away like a rat. “Yes, we’re powerful. Yes, we’re sexual beings. Yes, the men in this town are under my spell. But each one of us only has one man and that is the way it must be.”

Branna stared at Evonnia as the vila sipped her wine. Jovanna made no move to take her glass, so Branna helped herself to it, gulping the honey liquor down like it was water. This wasn’t exactly turning out the way she’d hoped.

“What happens to the other after I make my choice?” she asked weakly.

“If you have nothing else to give, to sacrifice for yourself, so you can have everything you desire, you have to give one of them up.” Evonnia paused. “To us,” she added unnecessarily.

“For what?” Branna asked.

“Ritual. To give you the power,” Jovanna answered for her mother. “To take his power and give it to you.”

“So this isn’t a Girl Power thing,” Branna said. “You take the power from men and give to yourself.”

“That isn’t exactly how it happens,” Evonnia told her. “It’s a rather crude description of how we come to our power.”

“I can’t choose between the two!” Branna burst out suddenly, feeling panicked. “I can’t!”

“Mother,” Jovanna said suddenly, cutting across the conversation.

“Yes, Daughter?”

“The dark haired one. The tall one. That is the one she loves,” Jovanna breathed.

“Loves?” Branna burst into nervous laughter. “No, no! No, darling, you have it all wrong. I don’t-- _don’t_ love him.”

“Mother, she loves him,” Jovanna insisted, laying her claw-like hand on Evonnia’s shoulder.

“No, I don’t love either of them,” Branna heard herself babble. “I mean, there’s affection and there’s definitely passion, of course. But there’s no love.”

“Mother, the fair one, the one with the green eyes. He strays. He is not faithful.”

“What?” Branna asked, shocked. “Are you saying that Dean has been with someone since we’ve been in your town?”

“No.” Jovanna shook her head slightly. “But he’s thought about it. He came close, just today.”

Evonnia seemed disturbed. “What do you mean that he came close, Daughter?”

“One of us,” Jovanna murmured, her eyes distant and glassy, “bent to him. We almost gave in. We almost betrayed our own man to be with her man.”

“Wow, that’s some serious mojo.” Branna was impressed, in spite of the situation. Dean was attractive--more than attractive, some would call him beautiful--but to almost sway a supernatural being from her lifelong love slave was something she never thought she’d hear.

“That’s the one we want,” Evonnia cut off Branna’s musings.

“Excuse me?” Branna asked.

“Bring him to us,” Evonnia ordered, her level voice even and calm. “The fair one.”

“I can’t just offer him up to you like some lamb to the slaughter!” Branna cried.

“Bring us the fair one and we can make the dark one love you,” Evonnia promised.

Branna felt herself pausing, comprehending, listening. Listening much too closely to the vila’s hard sell. “What do you mean? Love me?” she asked.

“We’ll make him love you, Branna Hayes.” Evonnia was unnervingly calm. “You will be his one true love forever.”

“He already has a true love,” Jovanna said, her tiny voice delivering the news so quietly that Branna had to strain to hear her.

“What?” Branna gasped.

“He has a true love,” Jovanna repeated. The words, whispered, clanged in Branna’s ears discordantly like church bells. “She has died. Recently. Violently. In hellfire and blood.”

“When?” Branna asked. Her glass of mead was refilled by an invisible hand and she gulped it down.

“Within a few years. He discovered her.” Jovanna’s voice began to shake. Evonnia’s icy facade began to crack ever so slightly as she watched her daughter. “The fair one saved him from the fire. But she is gone and in a terrible place, suffering, because of him.”

“What do you mean ‘because of him’?” Branna demanded. “Are you saying that Sam caused her death? How? What happened?”

“The dark one has … abilities,” Jovanna answered haltingly.

Branna chuckled, in spite of the situation, remembering Sam’s masterful treatment of her in bed just the night before.

“Does he ever,” she ruminated.

“Not like that. Not _just_ like that,” Jovanna insisted. “Abilities desired by something evil and powerful.”

“I sensed it too, when you came in,” Evonnia agreed suddenly, like she just remembered. “Behind the facade of those innocent eyes, there’s a darkness. Are you willing to live with that darkness? Are you willing to have that darkness with you, stalk you, threaten you? Forever? Just to keep him with you?”

Branna swallowed. She’d never thought of any of this. She was so used to being on her own, so used to flying solo, that the idea of having someone next to her for her eternity, however short that may be (and a hunter’s eternity is notoriously short) was without warning exactly what she wanted. Forever.

“Yes, I’m willing,” she answered abruptly, surprising all three of them with her vehemence. “I’m very willing. I--I’ll--I’ll take the darkness in his soul with him. If I have to.”

Evonna nodded like she knew that was going to be Branna’s answer the entire time.

“Bring us the fair one,” she ordered. “The one you call Dean. When we have him, we’ll give you the tall one, the dark one, the one you call Sam.”

“Branna Hayes,” Jovanna whispered.

“Yes?” Branna’s eyes were starting to sting, to fill with tears. Was this really what she was going to do?

“You must prepare yourself for what you’re going to have to do” Jovanna advised her.

“What do you mean what I’m going to have to do?” Branna asked. “What are you talking about? This is your ritual.”

“You’re part of the ritual, a very large part. You must bring him to us. You must be involved.” Jovanna’s eyes went dim, like she was thinking of something so painful, she couldn’t stand it but also couldn’t stop it. “You have to prepare yourself … prepare yourself for the blood … prepare yourself for the screaming …” Jovanna’s voice shook. “The screaming is the worst part.”

“Daughter, hush,” Evonna snapped, dropping her mask of icy indifference at her daughter’s show of raw emotion.

“They scream, Branna,” Jovanna’s clawed hand grasped Branna’s wrist. Branna’s skin crawled at the touch of her hot, thin fingers. “And it’s awful. And it echos in your ears. And it haunts your dreams for months. You can’t let it go. You hear, hear, hear them screaming, desperate for the pain to stop--”

“Daughter!” Evonna thundered. Jovanna fell silent all at once, her eyes on the floor, her straggly white hair a curtain covering her face. “You must forgive my daughter.” Evonna turned to Branna, who was shaking.

 _What a big, bad hunter I am,_ Branna thought randomly, mocking herself.

“Jovanna had two loves,” Evonna went on. “She brought us one for the ritual.” Evonna’s clear blue eyes bore into her trembling, cowed daughter. “She chose … _poorly_.”

“Poorly? What do you mean, poorly?” Branna didn’t even recognize her own voice, low, terrified, quavering.

Evonna waved her hand, airly. The moment had passed. “We won’t discuss past failures now. Branna Hayes, bring us the fair one. We want him.”

“Well, darlings, you’re not the only vila who wants him, apparently,” Branna’s sass reared its head at the vila’s insistence at repeatedly calling Dean “the fair one.”

“We will find the vila who bent to his seduction. She will be suitably punished.”

“Punished? For acting on impulse?”

Evonna fixed Branna with a long stare. “For acting against us.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

Sam paced the small motel room while Dean practiced throwing a knife into the air and catching it on the back of his hand. The sound of the flat of the blade hitting Dean’s skin was driving Sam insane.

“Do you mind?” he snapped at this older brother.

“What?” Dean asked.

“She’s been gone for two hours,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I know.” Dean tossed the knife. Slap! went the blade on his hand. “I can tell time.”

“What the hell is taking so long?” Sam demanded.

“How should I know?” Dean asked casually. “She’s probably brokering some vila deal right now for all we know.”

Sam whirled on Dean, who barely looked away from his knife trick.

“She wouldn’t do that!” Sam roared.

“How do you know, Sam?” Dean snapped back. “Because we know her so well? C’mon, Sammy, just because you put her dick inside her doesn’t make you an expert on Branna Hayes.”

Sam bit his tongue, but he clenched his fists. The only thing that stopped his next retort from exploding out of his mouth (“But if _your_ dick was in her, you’d know everything, right?”) was the sound of the motel room door opening.

Branna walked in, pale, and was faced with 400 pounds of Winchester pouncing on her: Sam physically, Dean verbally.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dean exclaimed.

“I was with the lead vila,” Branna answered, her voice muffled by Sam’s chest.

Sam took a mini-step back and took her face in both of his massive hands. “Are you alright?” he asked.

Branna removed his hands, holding his wrists. She smiled wanly up at his concerned face. “I’m fine,” she whispered.

With proof that Branna was safe with them again, Dean got down to business. “So, how did it go?”

Branna hesitated for half a second before replying, “It went fine, Dean.”

“Fine? Just fine? I mean, you came back. You’re not dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“Yes, thank you for pointing out I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere.” Branna sat down at the motel’s weapon-covered table. She helped herself to a shot straight from the whiskey bottle.

“That’s not good,” Sam commented gently, sitting down next to her.

Branna looked at the brothers, who were both staring intently at her, waiting for answers. “Well, they’re willing to take me. They’re willing to give me power. They’re ready to give me Sam for eternity. In exchange for one thing.”

“What’s the one thing?” Sam asked, but he already knew the answer.

“Dean.”

“What?” Dean asked.

“Dean. They want Dean.” Branna fixed Dean with a long, even stare. “They want you.”

Dean chuckled to cover up the nerves welling up in his chest. “Of course they do.”

Branna took another shot of whiskey, shaking her head. “No, no, no. You raging egomaniac. That’s not why. It’s because you nearly seduced one of them today.”

“You almost did what?” Sam turned to his brother.

Dean shrugged. “Uhhh … yeah.”

Branna finally snapped. “Honestly, Dean! What were you thinking? How could you do that?”

“Do you know how dangerous that was?” Sam took up the mantle of righteous indignation. “She could have snapped your head off. This whole case depends on finesse. You can’t just go blundering in there with your dick hanging out.”

Dean made a pissed off sound. “All right. All right. I made a mistake and, you know, whatever.”

Branna turned to Sam. “Is that his way of saying he’s sorry?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“Listen, she didn’t go for it,” Dean snapped, defending his actions. “She almost did, but then she didn’t. At the last second, her eyes glazed over and her head dropped. I knew that it was a bad situation, so I got out.”

“But, Dean, that’s why they want you,” Branna told him, laying her hand over his. Her fingers caressed his as she linked them together. “They want you because you had the skill to almost seduce one of them. How close were you? They made it sound like her panties were on the floor.”

Dean smirked, unable to control his boundless ego. “That’s pretty accurate. High school second base close.”

“Panties off is second base in high school for you?” Branna asked, taken aback. “My second base and your second base are _really_ different.”

“What’s _your_ second base?” Dean asked.

“Can we get back to the topic, please?” Sam jumped in. The way Branna’s fingers were wrapped around Dean’s, the interest in her eyes when they were going to discuss second base in deeper detail set his teeth on edge.

“Listen, it didn’t happen and we’re okay,” Dean reassured his brother.

“No, Dean, we’re not. You don’t understand.” Branna reached over and grabbed his chin so she could look him straight in the eyes. “They want you terrible. Apparently, you’re the Righteous Man? What does that even mean?”

Branna could tell by the look that Sam and Dean exchanged that what she said meant something to them. But now was not the time to try and press the situation and try to figure out why the brothers were so freaked out.

“All right. So, what’s the ritual?” Dean asked finally. “There’s always a ritual.”

“You’re not seriously thinking about giving yourself up,” Sam said incredulously.

“No, but we need to know the ritual so we can stop it.”

“Oh, the ritual is very easy to stop,” Branna said. “I just don’t have sex with you.”

“You said what now?” Dean asked at the same time Sam choked out, “Excuse me?”

“The ritual is Dean and me having sex. He’s tied to a stone table and I ride him until he cums. All the while the vila carve symbols into my skin while I carve up Dean. Then they slit your throat as you orgasm and your power enters me. To finalize the last part of the ritual, I come back here to Sam and seduce him. The raw power of the Dean left over inside me turns Sam into my slave for life.”

Dean yanked his hand out of Branna’s grasp. “Son of a bitch. What the hell?” Dean started to pace the room. “So, you’re telling me that you and I do it. They kill me when I cum and then you have sex with Sam while you’re still all gooped up inside with my junk. And that turns you into a vila?”

It seemed to Sam that Branna and Dean were enjoying the idea of the ritual a little more than it should. In fact, Branna looked on the verge of having a massive giggle attack. Her cheeks were pink and her lips were pressed together, holding back her laughter. Dean finally barked out a harsh laugh, which set Branna off, and the two of them laughed together for way longer than Sam wished they had.

“It sounded like a horror porno,” Branna snorted. “It didn’t even sound real.”

“As long as you don’t grow tentacles,” Dean added, which set Branna off even more.

“I’ve never heard of any kind of ritual like that,” Sam finally announced when he couldn’t handle their laughing any more. Branna had gotten up to hold onto Dean while they laughed and their closeness was making Sam see red. “It doesn’t sound like it could transfer power from one person to another. And I know you two haven’t either which is why you’re both hysterical and Dean looks like he’s about to agree.”

“Listen, Sammy. I’m not going to agree to that,” Dean reassured him as Branna leaned into his side with her hip, both arms around his waist, and Dean slung a casual arm around her shoulders. Sam’s eyes blazed at how close Dean’s hand was to grazing Branna’s breast. “First of all, it means I’m gonna die. And second, it means that she’s gonna drip my junk all over your dick. And, man, that’s gross.”

“And I’m not exactly thrilled about the idea of them carving symbols into my skin either. I mean, I’ve done some pretty kinky things in my life, but even I’m above flesh mutilation during coitus,” Branna agreed, her eyes bright with giggling.

“Did you say ‘coitus’?” Dean asked her. Branna looked up at him. “I’ve never heard anyone actually use the word ‘coitus’ before.”

It was that moment, with Dean looking down at her with his candy apple green eyes, his full lips, and his freckled nose, that Branna realized how a vila could almost be seduced by a man like this. A quick flick of her eyes up and down his long body affirmed the fact that Dean Winchester was a rare breed of man: all male, _so much male_ , but so beautiful that supernatural creatures were willing to meet certain death to mate with him.

“Listen, we have to at least make them think that we’re going to go through with this,” Branna said, disentangling herself from the muscular arms of Dean Winchester before she did something rash like kiss him on those full, bow-shaped lips. “If we don’t, this case will never end and this town will never be rid of the vila.”

“We’re going to have to agree to play along,” Sam said through clenched teeth.

“And _all_ we’re going to do is play along,” Branna agreed, looking at Sam. She was startled by the anger in his face. She took a few steps back, away from Dean and his intoxicating smell of whiskey, leather, and fresh, hot skin. “I think we can stall the ritual until we can get the situation on our side. The three of us can handle that.”

“If we take out the lead vila, the spell will break. Yeah?” Dean asked, looking at his younger brother.

Sam glared at his brother. “Yeah.”

“It’s not just her, though. She has a daughter. We have to make sure we take out the daughter too.” Branna, at this point, was across the room from both Winchesters. She knew her flirting was the cause of the sudden tense feeling in the room. It was time to distance herself from them as much as possible. “Evonna may be the leader, but Jovanna was the one who seemed to know everything. She may have some latent psychic ability. Once we kill them, I’m thinking that everyone will snap back to normal. The town will be worse for wear, but at least it’ll be free of vila.”

“The daughter is sick, right?” Dean asked.

“She looks it,” Branna agreed. “She’ll be easy to take out.”

"Sometimes the easiest-looking to take out are the hardest,” Dean offered up this pearl of wisdom. “Also, I’ll be tied to a table during all this.”

“I’ll cut you free,” Branna said witheringly.

"Dunno. It’s kinda hot.” Dean’s eyes sparkled.

“Man, can you focus for five seconds please?” Sam growled at his brother.

Dean shrugged. “Don’t blame me. Branna was the one who started it with the ritual. I’m just filing it away for later reference.”

“I’m sure the girls at Casa Erotica and Busty Asian Beauties will be really happy for the break.” Sam couldn't stop himself.

Dean smirked. “Screw you, Sam.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: More sex! You go, girl! Bang that Winchester!

While there was a lot of lore on what a vila was, there didn’t seem to be a lot of lore on how to kill one. After hours of trolling the Internet, Sam pushed his laptop away from him in frustration.

“I can’t find crap,” he announced. Branna and Dean looked up from weapons they were prepping. “I’m going to call Bobby.”

“Who’s Bobby?” Branna asked.

“He’s our go-to guy,” Sam replied, punched Bobby’s number into his cell. The reception in the room must have been terrible because he held one finger up to Branna and Dean and went outside to make his call.

Leaving Branna and Dean alone since the awful tenseness of the afternoon seemed to set off some sort of immediate flirt reaction between the two of them. Dean turned to Branna with a wicked smile on his lips as she turned to him with an eyebrow arched.

“So, sex is the only way to get all the power, huh?” Dean asked. “Typical women.”

“Really? You’ll be the ultimate one and done,” Branna shot back. “Typical man.”

Dean winced. “Ouch. But at least you’ll go out screaming.”

“I think you’ll be the one who goes out screaming. Slit throat and all.”

“You should try me before you kill me,” Dean offered.

Branna felt a little shiver run down her spine at the tone in Dean’s voice. Was he serious? After knowing his brother just had her the night before? There was no way he was serious. Branna glanced up through her eyelashes at Dean, who hadn’t looked away. He had, in fact, leaned back in his chair with the shotgun resting across his lap. His green eyes appraised her appreciatively.

“You’re wicked, Dean Winchester,” Branna murmured at him.

“I love the way you say my name,” Dean teased.

There was no way Branna was going to let Dean get the upper hand in this exchange. Not with how she felt about his brother, not the way she was going to have to protect him tonight, not with how her whole body was trembling at the idea of those bow-shaped lips grazing her skin, not with how her pussy ached at the sight of that pink tongue that kept slipping between those lips.

“Really?” Branna asked as she sharpened another stick into a stake. Good to be prepared. “Because I’m scream-inducing myself. I do this thing … with my tongue … at the base of your--”

Sam opened the motel door and the conversation stopped dead in its tracks. Branna’s felt her face flame red while Dean coughed as he started filling shells with rock-salt again.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, his brown eyes narrowing.

“Nothing. Why?” Dean answered. Branna didn’t trust herself to answer.

_What’s wrong with you, Branna?_ she thought furiously. _You’re a hunter. You’re tough. Until you met these two, you handled everything herself. Get the hell over it. They’re just guys._ Branna’s eyes raked over Sam’s body, remembering every single detail, every single second. _But mmmm … Stop it! Jesus, you girl._

Sam looked so suspicious, Branna’s stomach did a flip. Nothing had happened, just a bit of flirting, so why did she feel so guilty? Then Jovanna’s words came back to her, like a dim whisper: “The dark haired one. The tall one. That is the one she loves.”

 No. No. She wasn’t going to let _that_ shit happen again.

Branna got to her feet angrily, tipping the chair back. Both Winchesters looked at her in surprise. Her anger bubbled over, coupled with the fear of her emotions. She didn’t want to but she just snapped.

“I’m going to my room,” she announced, flinging the stake she’d be making on the bed but keeping the knife. “I don’t know what kind of weird-ass angsty shit you two are playing at with _your_ suspicions” she pointed at Sam “and _your_ need to be the Alpha male” she glared at Dean “but I don’t need to deal with it. That’s your shit. You two assholes deal with it.”

Kicking her motel room door shut after her, Branna perched on her bed, panting. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. She’d never been more turned on in her life. All that testosterone, all that heavy masculinity hanging in the air in that small room was suffocating. The brothers obviously had some deep, underlying issues that needed to be dealt with, and Holy Mary Mother of God, it made the air practically crackle with tension.

Stripping off her boots and socks, Branna knew that what happened that night would decide her fate. What if, once it was started, the ritual couldn’t be stopped? What if she didn’t want it to stop? The idea of not being alone for the rest of her life, and being tied to a fellow hunter, was more than a bit appealing.

“Stop it, Branna,” she raged at herself. “Just stop it.”

“Talking to yourself?” Sam’s voice asked.

“Yeah, well, with you two, it might be the only way to get intelligent conversation,” Branna snapped.

Sam snorted back a laugh. He came into the room, all long arms and legs. He pulled a chair up to her, folding himself into it. He looked so ridiculous in that chair, Branna had to grin. Sam didn’t return her smile. His handsome face was impassive, but his eyes blazed. He was angry, very angry, and that anger was about to boil over. All she had to do was say one thing.

“Nothing was going to happen,” Branna assured him before she could stop herself.

That was it. Sam’s face contorted and Branna recoiled at the glare.

“I didn’t need to hear that!” he roared, getting to his feet.

“Yes, you did!” Branna roared back, jumping up.

“Why?” Sam demanded.

“Because you’re being an asshole!” Branna yelled, poking him in the chest.

Panting, the glaring continued until Sam grabbed Branna up in his arms. He crushed her to his chest and kissed her hard. Branna opened her mouth as Sam’s tongue jammed itself between her teeth, her body already responding to his hands, which were everywhere.

“What are you gonna do, Sam?” Branna goaded him as he pulled her shirt off her shoulder and sucked at her skin. “Bang me until I forget all about your sexy brother?”

Sam threw Branna back on the bed and ripped his shirt off. His chest was a hardened maze of taunt muscles. The sight was dazzling. Branna bit her lips strong enough to draw blood.

“You say one more word about him …” Sam warned her, growling.

“Dean … Winchester …” Branna purred, his anger making her wet.

Sam pinned her to the bed by the shoulders and attacked her. His mouth started on her lips, into her hair, on her neck. He bit, sucked, and kissed, marking her pale skin, claiming her as his own. His hands scrabbled at the button and zipper of her pants, yanking jeans and panties to her ankles. Branna was pulling her shirt off when Sam plunged two fingers deep inside her. Branna let out a shriek as she flung her bra across the room.

“Sam! Wait!” she begged.

“Shut up,” Sam replied before he buried his mouth between her legs.

Sam’s irrational anger fueled his passion. He licked, sucked, flicked Branna’s clit, plunging his fingers in and out of her. Branna writhed on the bed under his assault. She tried to pull herself away from him, but Sam held her thigh in one hand, pinning her down, digging his fingers into her flesh.

“ _Samsamsamsamsamsamsam!_ ” Branna raised her hips to meet his mouth as she came, hard, screaming his name.

Branna felt Sam’s weight on her as he kissed her again, his lips and tongue wet and sticky. She tasted herself on his mouth and she dragged her tongue over his chin to lick him clean of her cum.

“I’m yummy,” Branna said huskily.

“You have no idea. Taste,” Sam ordered. He slipped his fingers into her mouth and she sucked them as he closed his eyes and groaned.

“Take me, Sam,” Branna moaned around his wide fingers. “Now. Right now.”

Sam didn’t need any more encouragement. Grabbing the comely girl up in his arms, he picked her up off the bed and slammed her against the wall. With her legs wrapped around his waist, Sam thrust his thick cock inside her as deep as he could go. The tight slickness of her pussy almost made him lose his control, but Sam knew he had to fuck Dean out of her head. He pounded hard at her with his hips as Branna clung to him with all her might, arching her back and letting her ass and shoulders bang against the wall between the two motel rooms.

“Don’t stop, Sam! Oh, god, please!” Branna screamed into his shoulder before biting down on his sweaty skin.

Onto the bed she went next, onto her belly. Branna felt the air woosh out of her as Sam dropped her on the bed and held her hips steady before resuming his pounding. Doggie style with a man as big as Sam was painful, so painful, but so intense and so pleasurable, she couldn’t tell him to stop. Not that he would. Branna knew he had something to prove. Dean’s face flitted across her mind and Branna moaned loudly, louder than before.

“Oh, god!” she burst out. “Oh, god--Sam!”

_NO!_ Sam’s brain screeched. He knew she was seconds away from saying the wrong name. Grabbing a handful of hair, he pulled her head off of the mattress. “Say it!” he demanded. “Say it! Yell my name.”

“Sam!” Branna howled. “Oh, my god! My dearest Sam!”

It was all he needed. Sam grabbed both her shoulders in his massive hands, yanked her up so her back met his chest and flooded her soaked pussy. His guttural roar of pleasure echoed through her room. Their bodies shook with passion as Branna came again and then collapsed when Sam let go of her shoulders.

Sam flopped down on the bed next to her, his weight causing the mattress to depress and making Branna roll closer to him. Leaning up on one elbow, Branna faced Sam, whose eyes were closed. She gazed at him for as long as she could before touching that beautiful face.

Sam’s eyes popped open. “What?” he demanded.

Branna felt cowed, an emotion she hadn’t felt in years. Instead of bristling up like a pissed-off cat like she usually would, Branna ducked her hand and snatched her hand away from him.

"Nothing,” she said quietly. “Never mind.”

Getting up, Branna headed into the bathroom to shower. Hiding, Branna’s tears mixed with the water.

_I hate you,_ she thought furiously. _I hate you. You’re a useless prat and a joke. You don’t deserve to be a hunter. You’re too weak._

She was, of course, talking about herself.

“Branna?” Sam’s voice asked.

Branna started, wiping her face. “Go away, Sam.”

“Branna, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“I am though. I’m so sorry.”

Branna stared at Sam’s shadow through the shower curtain. He was standing totally still, waiting for her response.

“I don’t care, Sam,” Branna replied, proud about how strong her voice sounded.   

“It’s just me and Dean--” Sam began.

“Jesus Christ, Sam!” Branna burst out. She was starting to shake. She didn’t want to know. “I don’t care! Just stop!”

Sam stayed silent. Branna watched his silhouette. It moved to leave so she put her face in the stream of water again. Maybe she could just drown herself and get it over with. A cool breeze on the back of her legs made her spin around. Too much torque in her turn stumbled her into the looming presence of Sam Winchester, who had joined her in the shower. His massive arms went around her, catching her before she fell.

“Damn it, Winchester,” Branna hissed as her arms automatically went around his waist. “Stop saving me.”

“Can’t help it,” Sam shrugged. “I kinda like you.”

Branna looked up at the tall, naked man in her shower. He looked down at her, water dripping off his long brown hair. She stood on tiptoe to brush a wet lock of it off his forehead.

“I kinda dig you, too,” she replied.


	8. Chapter 8

It was dusk when Branna and Dean ventured out. Dean was gracious enough to let Branna drive her own car to the rendezvous point, glaring angrily out the front and passenger side windows.

“Something you feel like sharing with me, Dean?” Branna finally asked.

“I hope you know that if this is a trap, I will gank you so fast you won’t even see me coming,” Dean told her.

Branna rolled her eyes as she turned off the road. Sam followed several feet behind in the Impala.

“I know you don’t know me, Dean, but I’m not gonna betray you.” Branna stopped the car, turned it off, and turned to Dean. It was dark in the car, but Branna could see the fine outline of Dean’s jaw. She reached out and touched it gently with her long fingers. For a split second, she was sure that Dean closed his eyes at her touch. Taking advantage of that, Branna leaned in and kissed him softly on his amazing lips. “I would never. I’m not that kind of girl,” she murmured into his mouth, her forehead resting against him.

Dean inhaled the warm lavender scent of her skin. _God, focus, Winchester,_ he thought. Pulling away from her swiftly, he opened the car door. “It’s that kind of shit that makes me wonder about you, Hayes,” he informed her.

Branna got out on her side and glared over the hood at him. “Go to hell, Winchester.”

They were both armed to the teeth, knives strapped to legs and tucked inside boots. Branna had forgone her jeans for a thigh-length denim skirt to add to the seduction angle they had to work. Dean had a hard time not watching her skirt ride up her legs as they hiked into the woods to where Evonna had told Branna to meet them. Branna skidded on a wet pile of leaves as the path angled up an incline and Dean caught her by the hip and ass to stop her from falling.

“Careful, Dean,” Branna warned. “I might be trying to tempt you.”

Dean threw Branna forward, causing her to stumble again. “Get walking.”

In the distance behind them, they both heard the strangled sounds of Sam holding his tongue.

Evonna and Javanna were waiting for them as Branna and Dean approached. Their mood had changed from suspicious partners to adoring lovers with arms wrapped around waists and Branna walking backwards into the glen, leading Dean on. They were laughing and Dean was burying his mouth behind her ear. To the unsuspecting, it looked like he was kissing her neck. In reality, he was muttering “Fucking _end_ you” as a warning in her ear.

Branna shuddered at his cruel tone.

“Hello, Branna Hayes,” Evonna greeted them. The magnificently tall blonde woman came forward with her daughter in her wake.

Dean looked at Branna, his green eyes wide. Branna was impressed by the look of true bewilderment in his face.

“What’s going on, Bee?” Dean asked, his voice puzzled.

_Goddamn, he’s an amazing actor,_ Branna thought as she replied, “I’m so sorry, Dean, love.”

“What the hell?” Dean asked as other townswomen began appearing in the clearing from behind trees.

Branna whipped her head around, shocked. “What’s all this?” she demanded. “I thought it was just going to be us.”

Evonna shook her head. “Oh, no. Not with someone as powerful as the Righteous Man.”

“Branna?” Dean asked. His acting mask was slipping. Real emotions--anger, fear, concern--were bleeding through.

“Dean! I didn’t know!” Branna said desperately.

“I will fucking _kill you_!” Dean exploded at her as the townswomen swarmed him like locusts. As strong as Dean was, he was no match for eight women.

Fighting, twisting, and yelling, the women dragged him to a flat stone outcropping, stripping him of his clothes as they went. A metal spike was drilled deep into the stone and Dean, clad only in his boxer briefs, was handcuffed to the spike.

“Damn you, Branna Hayes!” Dean roared. “I’ll gut you alive for this!”

“This isn’t how you said it would be!” Branna yelled at Evonna, who stood stock-still as she surveyed the scene.

“If I told you the truth, you’d never have agreed,” Evonna said simply. “Take her.”

The women massed around Branna next, some holding her arms while others stripped her down.

“No! No!” Branna screamed, fighting back as they disarmed her and handcuffed her next to Dean. “Not like this! You said--”

“Silence.” Evonna held up one elegant hand, strangling Branna’s voice in her throat.

“Branna, what the hell?” Dean asked, his fear covered up by his anger.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Branna replied, panicking. “This isn’t what they said it would be.”

Evonna turned to the eight women and her daughter. She held up both hands, a long, thin curved blade in both. “And now, we wait. We wait for the other.”

“Oh my god,” Branna gasped.

“Sammy!” Dean choked.

“It was all about Sam!” Branna accused the vila. “You just wanted Sam!”

Jovanna turned to Branna and Dean. Her white skin gleamed in the dark. Her smile was terrifying.

“Of course it was,” she agreed. “It was always about The Righteous Man and his dark brother. You’re just a means to the end.”

“Oh, no,” Branna whimpered. It was a trap, it was all a trap, and it was all her fault. And now, Sam … Oh, Jesus, Sam …

Tears streamed down Branna’s face. Above her head, Dean yanked on his cuffs, trying to loosen them from the spike.

“Branna! Dean!” Sam’s voice echoed through the wood.

“Sam!” Branna screeched at the same time Dean roared, “Sammy, no!”

Sam burst into the glen to find his brother and his lover bound down to a stone and 10 white-clad women ready to fight. There was a pause, it felt like 100 years, before Evonna motioned casually to Sam.

“Ladies,” she said artlessly and the women streamed toward the imposing hunter.

Sam fought, his blades flashing like mad. One by one, the women went down, screaming. They were normal women, mothers and wives in real life, but on this night, they were a hoard of vila who needed to be put down.

Branna pulled and yanked, feeling the skin on her wrist ripping open. Blood streamed down her arms as she fought to free herself from her cuffs. One hand came free with a sickening amount of blood splashing across Dean, who jerked his face away from the spray. With one hand free, Branna wrench her other wrist free with a distressed screech. Leaping to her feet, she dove at Jovanna, tackling the waif-like girl. Behind her, Branna heard Dean’s bellow of pain as he too broke free from the spike and went into fight mode.

Jovanna fought Branna with strength that belied her sickly appearance. Jovanna’s blade flashed and plunged, sometimes connecting with Branna’s skin, sometimes missing. Branna tried desperately to disarm her, but to no avail.

Suddenly, something Branna had read came back to her: “It is said that if even one of their hairs is plucked, the Vila will die, or be forced to change back to her true shape.” Reaching up, Branna grabbed two handfuls of Jovanna’s white hair and yanked. Ripping hair from Jovanna’s head made the vila yowl in agony.

“ _Mother!_ ” Jovanna howled.

Evonna pulled her blade from Dean’s shoulder and turned in time to see Jovanna disappear.

“ _Daughter!_ ” Evonna’s cry was an animal’s keen of loss.

Throwing Sam away from her like he was a rag doll, Evonna descended upon Branna’s prone position on the ground. Branna scrambled backwards on her ass, her bare feet slipping on the loamy leaves underneath her.

“I will end you, girl!” Evonna roared, her true form coming through in her rage. Her blonde hair and white robes billowed around her, making her look three times as large as she actually was.

Behind Evonna, Sam fought with a lighter. Evonna reached Branna and brought her blade down in terrifyingly swift arc. Branna rolled over and the knife connected with her shoulder blade. Branna screamed.

“Hey!” Dean shouted as Evonna was going to strike again.

Evonna spun around to see Sam light something

{ _vila skin! branna thought wildly._ }

on fire with that faulty Zippo. The flames started at Evonna’s feet, enveloped her, and she was suddenly gone.

Dean and Sam looked at each other, panting. The fight was over. There were eight dead women in the glen, but the only woman who even registered with them was the half-naked hunter bleeding out on the ground in front of them.

“Branna!” Sam rushed to her, stripping off his coat to wrap her in.

“Is she alive?” Dean asked.

Sam scooped her up and Branna groaned.

“You fucker,” she cursed weakly.

“Yeah, she is.” Sam smiled in spite of himself.

Dean had gathered up what clothes he could find. “Let’s get the hell outta here, Sammy.”


	9. Chapter 9

The next town over wasn’t safe enough in Dean’s opinion, so he drove to the second one. The motel there was more their speed, seedy, dark, no questions asked as two huge men carried an unconscious girl into their room.

Laying Branna gently down on the second bed, Sam stripped his coat off her. She was covered with blood. So where he and Dean, but Sam ignored his pain to focus on healing Branna.

“Sammy, lemme see that arm,” Dean ordered.

“Not yet.” Sam shook off Dean’s hands.

“C’mon, man, lemme stitch you up.”

“Dean, _wait_.”

“No, Sammy.” Dean grabbed Sam away from the girl on the bed. “You’re bleeding like a stuck frigging pig and you need stitches. How are you gonna help her if you pass out?”

Sam threw a worried glance at Branna. Clad only in bra and panties, painted in blood, she looked vulnerable and helpless. But Dean was right. His wounds were superficial enough to warrant just a few stitches and butterfly bandage. Once Sam slammed Dean’s dislocated shoulder back into place, he was back on his knees next to Branna’s bed.

“Branna ... _Branna_ ...” Sam touched her shoulder gently. “Wake up, babe.”

Branna’s left eye opened slowly. She closed her eyes and tried to open them both, but the right one was slimed shut by blood-glued eyelashes. Dean silently handed Sam a hot washcloth and Sam wiped Branna’s face clean.

“Hey, Sam,” Branna whispered, her voice trashed from screaming. She turned her head, wincing a little, and spotted Dean. “Dean. Look, we all survived. Does that mean we won?”

Dean smiled, in spite of himself. “Yeah. We won.” Towering over the injured girl, Dean shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry … uh … sorry for doubting you.”

Branna shrugged. Fuck, now _that_ hurt. “It’s okay. I mean, you’re Dean Winchester, vila seducer. Why believe a girl?”

Sam laughed. “What hurts?”

“Seriously, Sam?” Branna asked, flicking her eyes at the tall man crouched next to her bed. “Everything fucking hurts. How many times did those fucking bitches stab me?”

“I’ll get the needle and dental floss,” Dean offered, turning away.

“Wow, even bleeding out all over and you’re still a sarcastic witch,” Sam teased.

“Get me something to drink,” Branna groaned.

“That’s my girl!” Dean exclaimed from across the room.

Sam met Dean at the motel room table to grab a bottle of vodka. On the bed behind them, Branna moaned and clutched her stomach, rolling onto her side. Both guys looked at her at the same time, then back at each other.

“She doesn’t look good, man,” Dean commented quietly.

“Yeah. She looks worse than I thought,” Sam muttered back.

“What do you think?” Dean asked.

“Hospital?” Sam replied.

“Screw you _and_ your hospital,” Branna said suddenly and the Winchesters froze, their backs to her. Hunching their shoulders barely protected them against the sudden and violent onslaught from the wounded girl behind them, “Don’t you dare take me to a hospital, you assholes. I don’t need a goddamn hospital. Now get over here with that bottle and stitch me the hell up so I can go take a frigging shower.”

“Shows how much you know,” Dean said, coming over to her. “You’re getting a shower first.”

Branna struggled to get up, but Sam stopped her. He picked her up like a baby and carried her into the bathroom. Standing her in the empty bathtub, Sam stripped her clothes off and turned the warm water on her. Branna gritted her teeth as he washed her all over, turning the white tub pink with blood. Blood pooled at her feet before running down the drain, making the whole shower look like a slaughterhouse. Her hair was the worst, clogged with dirt, sticks, leaves, and even more blood. Sam ran his fingers over her scalp, looking for open wounds.

“How’s it going in there?” Dean asked from the other room where he was sewing up his own wrists.

“Fantastic,” Branna answered for Sam. “This is the sexiest bloodbath ever.”

Sam was still working on Branna’s hair when she suddenly staggered. He caught her before she fell.

“What happened?” he asked urgently.

“I feel … wrong,” Branna replied.

Sam held Branna up under the armpits and surveyed her clean, naked body. Oh, shit. Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

“Dean!” Sam yelled.

Dean burst in, taken aback for a second by Branna’s curvy nakedness, before noticing what Sam was indicating. A purple bruise was massing on Branna’s left side. It didn’t look like a regular bruise. It was too big, too purple, and forming much too fast.

“What’s over there?” Dean asked.

Sam was scooping the sopping wet Branna up in his arms, despite her weak protests. Dean was throwing clothes at him to put on her.

“Spleen, left kidney, uhh … pancreas?” Sam guessed, frantically drying Branna off as she moaned and cried out in pain.

“What are you doing?” she groaned.

“You’re going to the hospital, badass,” Dean told her.

“What … the … hell … ?” Branna asked before she fainted.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look.

“Let’s go,” Sam said frantically.

Cradling Branna to his chest, Sam burst out of the motel and over to the Impala. Dean verbally assaulted the motel clerk until he got directions to the closest hospital while Sam watched Branna’s bruise grow.

“ _Dean_!” he roared for his brother.

Dean couldn’t drive fast enough for Sam, who sat in the backseat of the Impala, holding Branna against his chest. Moaning deeply, Branna opened her teary eyes, meeting Sam’s worried ones.

“I’m not gonna die,” she whispered sardonically. “I still haven’t had sex with your brother.”

Dean jerked his eyes from the road to look in the rear-view mirror at them. Sam laughed in spite of himself.

“You witch,” he said. “Shut up before I kill you myself.”

Dean skidded the Impala into the emergency room loading area. Sam barely waited for the car to come to a stop before he burst out of the back door and ran into the ER, holding Branna to his chest while she cried out and he yelled, “I need a doctor!”

A nurse and orderly rushed over. The orderly took Branna from Sam’s arms and loaded her onto a gurney. Her barely-on shirt yanked up to her armpits, showing off the bruise, which seemed to have a mind of its own at this point.

“What happened?” the nurse asked.

“Uh, accident,” Sam blurted out, watching Branna on the gurney.

“What kind of accident?” the nurse asked.

“Are you gonna help her or not?” Sam demanded.

Branna was getting wheeled away while Sam fought with the nurse. Branna looked at Sam beseechingly, but didn’t have the strength to call out before she was taken behind the swinging doors of the ER.

“Where’s Branna?” Dean demanded, stomping into the ER like he owned the joint.

Sam looked around anxiously. She was gone. The gurney she was on was gone.

“Where is she?” he commanded.

The nurse, an ER veteran who didn’t take crap from anyone, glared up at the imposing figure of Sam Winchester. “She probably went back to surgery. I suggest you settle yourself down and come answer some questions.”

Sam opened his mouth to protest, but a gentle touch from Dean shut him up. Sam joined the nurse to give her the biggest line of bullshit he could come up with.

Waiting sucks. Waiting sucks more than anything that can suck in the entire universe of ultimate suckage. Sam wasn’t even sure what that meant, but right now, after a few hours of waiting to hear what happened with Branna, it made absolute sense.

Lounging in a hospital waiting room chair when you’re 6’4” tall is not comfortable. Sam shifted and shifted and shifted again before getting up to pace. Dean looked up from an ancient copy of AARP magazine to watch Sam walk around the ER. There was nothing Dean could say or do to make the situation better, but it killed him to watch his younger brother in obvious agony.

Not for nothing, Sam had shit luck when it came to women.

“I hope she’s okay,” Sam muttered as he stalked past Dean.

“Listen, Sammy, she’s a tough chick. And you saw it pretty quick,” Dean tried to keep his voice casual. “I bet she’s gonna be fine. Beat to shit and pissed we had to take her to a hospital, but fine.”

“What name did you give again?” Sam asked.

A gowned nurse came out from behind the swinging doors. It took all of Dean’s strength to keep Sam from barreling over the chairs in front of him and scaring the nurse shitless. She glanced around the empty waiting room, which annoyed Dean, before her eyes landed on the two massive Winchester brothers. She approached them slowly. Dean kept his grip on Sam’s arm, holding him back like he was a racehorse ready to bolt.

“Are you the friends of Miss Marianne Faithfull?” she asked.

Sam shot Dean a withering glare. Dean glanced back, widening his eyes and shrugging. Sam turned back to the nurse.

“Yes. Yes, we are,” he replied.

“The doctor wanted me to come out and update you.” The nurse raked her eyes over the brothers, who were still dirty from the vila fight and not looking very whole with their cuts and bruises.

Her pause was killing Sam. “And?”

Dean pulled Sam’s arm back, taking a step in front of him before Sam could surge forward and grab the nurse by her lapels.

“Tell us everything,” Dean told her, turning on the Winchester charm. “We’re family.”

The nurse fluttered, actually fluttered, when Dean smiled at her. “She had massive internal bleeding. Her spleen had to be removed. She’s in recovery right now.”

“Can we see her?” Sam asked desperately. “Can I see her? I want to see her.”

The nurse shook her head. “Not until tomorrow. She needs to rest. And to be observed.”

Sam shot Dean an imploring glance. _Do something!_ his puppy dog eyed begged. But even Dean shook his head no.

Dean turned to the waiting nurse. “Thanks. We’ll be back tomorrow.”

The nurse walked away, leaving a fallen Sam in her wake. Once she was back behind the ER doors, Sam turned to Dean.

“But Dean--” he began.

Dean held up his hand. “No, Sammy. She needs to rest. Major surgery, man, _major surgery_. Give her some time to recover.”

They were walking out of the hospital when Sam suddenly turned to his brother.

“We’re not leaving until I’ve had a chance to say goodbye, Dean,” he said. “You get me?”

Dean stilled Sam with a level, green glare. “I get you, Sam.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who read, commented, and kudos'ed! I can't wait to write and post the next one!

The sun blazed in the hospital window and Branna knew it was going to hurt before she even opened her eyes. The last time her head hurt this much, she woke up in a motel bed next to a gorgeous mountain of a man with brown eyes like smooth whiskey and the body of a Greek god. Branna couldn’t believe her luck. As a hunter, the fear that you’re going to wake up and be a victim of a case of coyote ugly is pretty prevalent in most hook-ups. Waking up next to Sam Winchester was like waking up next to a sex dream come to life.

Branna maneuvered her bed into a sitting position, grimacing in pain as she did.

Then they were in the same town for the same case. Of all the cases, Branna shook her head. She’d read about three or four potential hunts before settling on the vila. Hell, she didn’t even _know_ it was vila until Sam figured it out.

A nurse came in with pain meds and Branna took them, hiding them under her tongue. She stashed the unswallowed Percocet in a twisted up piece of tissue next to her in the bed. No need for them now. Save them for when she’s back on the road and can’t get her hands on anything to dull the ache.

“Hello, Miss Faithfull.” An Indian doctor entered the room, flanked on both sides by a sycophantic cluster of interns. “And how are we feeling today?”

“I don’t know about you,” Branna replied. “But _I_ feel like someone removed my spleen last night after it received blunt force trauma due to an accident of some kind.” Branna eyed the interns to see who was about to burst out laughing. Two of them were barely hanging onto their giggles. “Does that sound about right to you, doctors?”

Surprisingly, the Indian doctor flashed her a broad smile. “That does sound about right. An excellent diagnosis. Would you care to fill us in on the rest of your injuries?”

Branna shrugged, despite the screaming pain in her shoulders when she did it. “Oh, probably a dislocated shoulder, some stitches on my arms and back, some minor contusions and abrasions on my legs.”

“Are you sure you’re not a doctor?” the pleasant Indian doctor asked her.

Branna killed his amusement with a flat stare. “Nope. I’ve just been down this road before.”

“And that is very unfortunate,” the doctor replied, his smile gone. “Would you like to share?”

Branna scoffed at him and his pack of interns, most of whom were slathering at the mouth to hear how this young girl got so beat up all the time she knew her injuries without even seeing them.

“Yeah,” Branna said, tsking her tongue, “I don’t think so.”

It was only after the pack of sawbones left the room did Branna let her bravada fall. She poured herself a cup of water from the pink pitcher on her bedside table and drank it down like a shot, her hand shaking.

Sam was surprised when he woke to find Dean on the laptop. It wasn’t that Dean was on the laptop that surprised him. It was that Dean was on the laptop and not looking at porn that was a shock.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Sam looked at the time. Jesus, 2:30! Where the hell had the whole day gone? With Dean watching him, his face impassive, Sam ran around their room, grabbing clean clothes. He glanced on the bed he’d used and was jolted to a stop by the Branna-shaped bloodstains on it. How had he slept under a blanket smeared with the life blood of his wounded lover without blinking an eye? What the fuck kind of person was he?

“Sammy? What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“I’m taking a shower. I need to go see Branna. Can I use the Impala?” Sam’s answer came out as a rush.

“Woah, woah, woah, man,” Dean said easily, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll go see her before we leave.”

“Leave?” The word stopped Sam short. “What do you mean, leave?”

Dean turned the laptop toward Sam. “I found us another case. We got this one under control. Time to move it on.”

Sam was bewildered. “But … but … but, wait--”

“Wait what, Sammy?” Dean’s voice was harsh, hiding his true feelings. He didn’t want to leave Branna here either considering how they almost got her killed, but once they found out she was okay, they needed a destination. And hunting a monster or three in Gardiner, MT was a good a place as any.

Sam’s glare would have cowed a normal man, but Dean wasn’t afraid of his baby brother. They glowered at each other before Sam broke eye contact. He gathered his clothes and headed into the shower. Dean pulled the computer back to him, dropping his eyes to the keyboard. That hurt, doing that to Sam, but there was no way that pulling Branna into their world was a smart idea.

When Sam emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, he started to pack his clothes. He knew Dean was right. Dean was almost always right. Branna, wounded, healing, vulnerable, would be a target on their backs. The last thing they needed was to be any more vulnerable than they were.

“You good, Sammy?” Dean asked him.

Sam turned to his brother, his hand up in the air. “You know what, Dean? Shut up. I don’t want to hear you right now.”

The Winchesters packed their belongings in silence and left the room.

The Indian doctor who was so pleasant earlier and the pain meds nurse stood next to Branna’s bed. Her chart was open on the bedside table, misplacing her water pitcher and cup. Sam watched from the doorway as they had a hushed conversation that was obviously distressing. Branna looked white and exhausted and her hair was matted, but holy shit, she was alive. How many girls can say they slept with Sam Winchester twice then hunted with Sam _and_ Dean Winchester and lived to tell the tale?

Branna looked past the doctor and the nurse and saw Sam. Her face lit up at the sight of him. He smiled back and walked into the room.

“Get out,” Branna ordered. Sam was stunned when the doctor and nurse left the room without another word. Branna held out her hand. “Hey, sexy man. What’s up?”

Sam smiled at her adoring tone. “Are you high?”

Branna giggled. “Just a smidge. Percocets.”

Sam sat down on the edge of her bed, resting his hand on her thigh. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Oh, peachy,” Branna answered. “I love losing a major organ after battling murderous beings who wanted to kill you and then rape your boyfriend and his brother.”

Sam snorted. “That’s a great way to put it.”

Branna’s eyes scanned Sam. “So, when are you leaving?”

Sam started. “How did you--?”

“Seriously?” Branna interrupted. “You’re coming to say good bye.”

Sam nodded. “It’s time to go.”

Branna tucked her hair behind her ears, not looking up into Sam’s handsome, earnest face.

“Well, maybe we can … I don’t know …” Sam’s voice trailed off when he saw the look in Branna’s eyes.

“What, Sam? Exchange phone numbers? C’mon now,” Branna scoffed gently. “You’re a hunter. I’m a hunter. We both know that’s not how it goes in our line of work.”

“I know. I just can’t stand leaving you like this,” Sam sighed.

“What? Laying in a hospital bed alone?’ Branna reached out, ignoring the pain in her body and cupped the side of Sam’s face. Sam leaned into her hand, enjoying the softness of her skin. “Dearest lad, don’t you think I’ve been here before? Now. Get out of here. I can just _feel_ Dean pacing in the parking lot.”

Sam leaned over and kissed Branna. It was a deep kiss, a lingering kiss, a kiss that spoke of sex and longing. It was almost a kiss of “I don’t want to go.” But he pulled back and looked down at her again. She looked up at him with those bitter, dark chocolate eyes.

“Go, Sam,” Branna said, giving him a little shove. “Go before you regret staying.”

Sam stood, heading for the door, while Branna played with the sheet covering her legs. Sam turned, his hand on the doorknob.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thanks for everything.”

Branna smiled, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “If you mean saving yours and your brother’s lives, you are so very welcome. And if you mean the sex, you’re _absolutely_ welcome.”

Sam smiled, raised a hand, and then left. Branna sighed deeply, though it hurt her ribs. There goes another man, out the door of her life while she healed in a hospital. But this one was different: this one she made leave. Less than three seconds later, the nurse walked back in.

“Was that him?” she asked.

Branna stared her down. “Yes,” she answered flatly.

The nurse looked down the hallway, though Sam’s retreating figure was long gone. She turned back to Branna, who looked as white as the pillowcase behind her head.

“Well? Did you tell him?” the nurse asked next.

Branna fixed the nurse with a deadly stare, a stare that once stopped a vampire in its tracks. The nurse took a step back.

“No,” Branna replied. “That’s not one of the ones that would stay.”

“Oh.” The nurse looked nervous. “Do you still want the procedure then?”

Branna didn’t answer her, but instead stared out the window. After a few minutes, the nurse took a hint and left.

In the parking lot, Sam approached the Impala and Dean, who was leaning against the driver’s side door. Dean looked up from his boots when he heard his brother coming.

“And?” he asked. “Did you say good bye?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. C’mon, it’s time to go.”

Dean looked at his little brother. Again, Sam had lost the girl. This one had lived, but it didn’t make it any less painful. The girl was gone, but they had saved the day. In Dean’s eyes, it was a fair trade-off. The boys got into the Impala, their doors singing out the musical notes they always did when opened and closed.

“How _did_ it go?” Dean pushed as he started Baby and begin to drive out of the parking lot.

“Man, I really don’t want to talk about it,” Sam replied.

“You gotta talk about it,” Dean insisted.

Sam gave his brother a look. “What happened to no chick flick moments?”

“That’s one hell of a chick we’re leaving behind,” Dean reasoned.

Sam shrugged. “She didn’t want me to stay. Besides, it’s not safe for her to be tied to us anyway.”

Dean looked thoughtfully out the windshield as they drove down the darkening street.

“Huh,” he mused. “Girls aren’t usually like that.”

Sam smiled ruefully. “Branna’s not a normal girl. She’s a hunter.”

Dean snickered, his beautiful bow lips curling into a smirk. “Yeah, man. Us hunters. We’re an enigma wrapped in a mystery and deep-fried in fucking dysfunction.”

In the Impala, Sam stared into the side-view mirror, watching the hospital disappear into the distance behind them. Sam looked down into his lap, trying not to be pensive next to Dean, whose idea of cheering him up was to sing a really filthy version of Led Zeppelin’s “Black Dog.”

In her hospital room, Branna stared out the window, wondering what pair of retreating taillights belonged to the Winchester brothers’ Impala. She sighed shakily and leaned her head back against her pillow. Branna closed her eyes, not realizing her hand was curling protectively over the curve of her abdomen.


End file.
